Sticks and Stones
by Zuzubirds
Summary: A slight sandstorm interrupts a very important moment in their journey; now our favorite gang is stranded in a sooty, stinky tavern with an injured Katara and a temperamental Fire Prince who's still bent on restoring his honor. No good can come from this!
1. Tenacity

_Woot! Yet another new atla fic on this wonderful site. Hello, loverly readers, and welcome to the ride. Please keep your arms, legs, and mind inside the plot bunny at all times, and don't forget the cheetos! _

_Perchance I'll write another chapter to add to this (it's a little shorter than i would like), but it all depends on YOU GUYS! I worship feedback, and by reading a lot of the other stories on ff, I can tell most other authors do as well. Please tell me what you think!_

_Disclaimer: is disclaimed. _

_p.s., Zutara later. I can't resist. _

* * *

_**Chapter 1: Tenacity**_

* * *

_"_Patience and tenacity are worth more than twice their weight of cleverness_."_

_-Thomas Huxley_

* * *

If there's one thing Katara will remember about Wan Shi Tong's library, it will be the sand.

And when she's old, with grandchildren, she'll make a point not to talk about buttresses or the giant stuffed catarantula heads that Wan Shi Tong obviously collects, because she won't really remember something like that. It would be pointless anyhow, and her grandchildren would probably laugh the same way she does whenever Professor Zei uses long words that no one understands. No… she'll remember the sand.

It piles in corners of the thousands of bookshelves, falls apart when a finger touches the paper it had been resting on for so long, and coats skin with a white powder not unlike the makeup that rich people use to cover up their warts. One of the foxes bumps a shelf, and a soft drizzle of it falls down in his fur. Katara bites her lip and looks away to give the impression that she hadn't watched, and after a moment the fox chuffs and trots past with a high nose.

The scroll she's holding now—a list, she guesses, of all the past Avatars since the kanjis for 'avatars' (along with some forgettable others) _were_ on the outside—is full of characters she hasn't taught herself to read. The lines are spider web-thin, curling and halting and trailing off like smoke. She squints, but it doesn't make anything different. If anything the extra lack of light blurs her vision a little. The green lanterns hanging from each shelf don't help much; they're more like the soft ruddy light of a glow fly.

When she sees something she can read, she smiles and tells Aang that he was left-handed in a past life. He rubs his head, shrugs, and says that he always knew he was special.

Katara suddenly wonders why anyone would write that in a scroll.

On the page, a carefully drawn portrait of a female Avatar—the left handed one—stares up at her, a raised eyebrow rather ruining her expression. _Marza_, is the caption where the picture cuts off below her neck. _Hailed from fire. _

Well.

She's beautiful anyway, even if the nation where she came from is a certain turn-off in Katara's head. Marza's slanted eyes are open halfway, an air of boredom, and her mouth points downward. The angles of her face are sharp, something Katara's always wanted, and her chin is lifted coolly.

Katara can't really tell if she'd like Marza, if the arrogance she can imagine radiating from her is anything to judge by. But then, this particular Avatar lived and died over five hundred years ago. Maybe they will meet in the Spirit World, after Katara is dead. Which could be soon.

She rolls up the scroll and sees Sokka stand on the bottom shelf of a bookcase, reaching with the tips of his fingers for something he's obviously too short to get.

"What are you doing, Sokka?" she asks, and he ignores her. With a strain in his voice that sounds more like a whine, he jumps and grabs a tome caked with dirt, pulling it back down without even glancing at it and stuffing it in his bag. Then he turns and looks at her. She blinks; his eyes are huge for some reason.

"There's some interesting books in this section," he says quickly, making a flicking motion with his hand. He wipes it on his shirt when the dust doesn't come off. "I just want to get as much as I can. Something might have information about the Fire Nation." He looks at the book in her hand. "What's that?"

Katara would say 'nothing,' but that would make his curiosity worse. So she mumbles, "Girl things," and shoves the scroll of Avatars between two others, where she found it. Sokka snorts.

"That owl sure has weird stuff in here," he says, and his gaze shifts once to the ceiling. It goes to Aang when he must realize that he doesn't care if Wan Shi Tong had heard. "You ever wonder if he's eaten anyone?"

Aang drops a scroll between his crossed legs on the floor, then picks it up and glares delicately at Sokka. Katara wonders how he can do that. She will have to try it in the mirror sometime.

"Sokka," he begins, in an exasperated voice. "He's a _spirit. _Spirits don't eat_ humans_, if they even eat at all."

"That's not what I've heard."

"What _have_ you heard?"

"The Blue Spirit eats people."

Aang's frown is so deep that, if Katara turns it upside down in her head, it stretches to his ears. After a hiccough of silence, he drops his head back down to his scroll and continues reading.

"No, Sokka. He doesn't."

Katara is too surprised by the sadness in his voice to wonder how he could've_ known_ something like that.

* * *

Soon Sokka finds a room that shows the sky in night and day, and Katara is _far_ too busy reading in the dark to pay attention to why it is interesting.

"A mechanical wonder, no doubt!" Professor Zei gasps, the loudest voice, and she smiles. But it takes a great deal of effort to make your eyes focus without much light, so she hears nothing else of the conversation. Aang, however, gets up from the spot that is suddenly very close to hers and runs after the other two.

Momo stays, lying on her head, and curls his tail around her neck. She takes it as a good thing.

* * *

They're gone for _hours_.

At least it _seems _like hours. Katara is standing, leaning against a bookshelf, and tapping a booted foot on the dusty ground. Momo grabs her braid and tugs. But she doesn't mind all that much; too many thoughts are going through her head. Like, the book she'd just been attempting to read—written in a completely different language, but it had some very pretty pictures of dead trees and a small black bird with white eyes. She frowns.

What _was _that book?

Shaking her head and raising a solitary eyebrow, she looks down only to see a rat. …And it's a big rat—no, a _huge_ rat, about the size of a squirrel, apparently frozen in front of her foot. The small frown on her face is replaced by a superior one.

…She's not scared of any old rat, is she? Of course not. That being thought, she moves her boot forward to kick it away and the thing _hisses _at her.

"Eugh!" she exclaims, because the sound reminds her of fuzzy hissing cockroaches, which happen to live only in the South Pole and _adore_ stewed sea prunes. The cockroach and the sea prunes are even the same color, but one is crunchy and the other is not. So you figure out pretty fast which is which. Katara put one in Sokka's sea prunes once, for revenge on a very broken doll, but he ate everything in his bowl and even asked Gran-Gran where she got the new spice. Katara almost died laughing and Sokka never knew why.

Good times.

Momo climbs down Katara's back and stares over her hip at the rat. He makes a feral noise and swipes a paw, but stays in what he must consider the safe zone. Katara rolls her eyes. When she lifts her foot, the rat raises itself onto tiny hind legs and keeps the boot level with its nose.

"Get him, Momo," she whispers. Momo does not. She rat hisses again, and this time it bears nasty-looking yellow teeth. The front two look sharp enough to cut through skin pretty fast.

Finally, she sighs. Loudly.

"Where _are _they?" She's about to be stuck here with a hideous _rat _who thinks her boot is an impending dinner guest_, _and everyone else is off having oodles of science-y fun without her.

But that brings up another question… where is Wan Shi Tong? The owl disappeared into the dark a long time ago—what could he possibly have to do? Read? Supposedly he already knows everything; at least that's what he said. If _Toph_ were here, Katara knows exactly what she would have said about _that_.

"_I am Wan Shi Tong, he who knows ten thousand things…"_

"_Nice to meet you. I'm Toph Bei Fong, she who knows ten thousand and __**two **__things. Wait, this place __**stinks**__. Make that… ten thousand and three."_

_However_, Toph isn't here; she's up with Appa above ground. She's up where the desert sun really isn't pleasant and the sand shifts so it's impossible to get comfortable, where Appa is probably trying to snuggle and get out of the dry heat— but it's freezing down here, so Katara can't really relate.

She takes a moment to stare mutinously at the rodent by her feet, feeling really bad about leaving the two up top all alone. Aang and Sokka are most likely too absorbed in their little machine to wonder what's happening to _her. _

"Maybe I'll go up and see them…" Katara says to Momo, who's gone back up to holding her neck again. Of course, she is talking about Toph and Appa. She decides she can't really care less about her brother and Aang at this point—unless they're dying.

"…If I can get away from this rat, of course."

Said creature becomes busy cleaning its whiskers but never changes the course of its vision.

_Ten foot pole, anyone? _Katara asks, but not out loud. She isn't quite sure how much human the rat—she'll name it Itchy for now even though she's not sure why—understands, and Momo isn't about to protect her should she need it.

She reaches into the shelf behind her and picks out a scroll, a fairly long one as far as she can tell. She pulls it slowly out in front of herself, lowering it to her foot as Itchy continues to stare, and quickly smacks him with the very edge of the scroll. Itchy skids around for a few seconds and squeals, outstretching his tiny paws in attempt to center himself, but Katara doesn't wait around to see if he will follow her. She grabs ahold of Momo and runs in the opposite direction.

Momo just chitters merrily and clings tighter to her head.

* * *

Soon Katara slows down to walk, holding one hand loosely by her side in case Momo decides to slide off of his resting spot. Once or twice it seems as if bright yellow eyes are glowing somewhere behind bookcases, in shadows that the huge walls and pillars cast over the ground, and make her think that Itchy might be back. She shudders and walks faster every time she sees them, while her mind begins to trick her into wondering what _other _kinds of things could live in the pitch black floors of an underground library. It's scary enough without a torch as it is. And she isn't really helping herself.

When she sees the light of the place where they all came in, she smiles and grabs Momo's foot as a cheering sort of gesture. She's not really sure why she does it, but it makes her feel better. She has almost reached the hanging rope when a dark form appears behind her and coughs dryly.

"Might I ask where _you _are going?" asks Wan Shi Tong.

Katara has wondered, from the moment she first heard him speak, if he has more than one voice. Maybe there are two; one that is dry and scratchy and the other fluid—he is a spirit after all. It's hard to tell. But she's listening closely. And she is so focused on concentrating that when he talks to her again, she barely pays attention to his words.

"Mortals are so predictable. Do you know what your friends are doing?"

She hesitates, but then turns to face him and shakes her head. Would it break a bird's beak to smile? Wan Shi Tong simply looks like he's disappointed in everything; he probably will be as long as there's something alive to scowl at.

"No. Is it bad?" She cringes, thinking of her brother. Usually whatever Sokka does isn't smiled upon, unless he's strategizing. He can be a decent leader when he wants to be. And Aang… no one really knows about Aang.

"Oh, I would hardly use that word," he says. She thinks that she hears amusement in his voice but it's hard to pick certain emotions out from him. "Predictable, yes. They are doing what all human beings do when they come here—searching for a way to destroy their enemy. The one who gave me the knot needs to practice his lying. It fell apart, by the way, the knot did."

Katara is silent for a while. She opens and closes her mouth a couple times, before working up the courage to speak. Wan Shi Tong's eyes are black and endless and too close for comfort, so she closes her own. "If you knew what they were going to do," she questions, because she's actually curious, "why did you let us in, in the first place?"

Wan Shi Tong chuckles at her. She wonders if it's because she's too scared to look him in the face, but the reason might be that it was a stupid question.

It must be both. "I had hoped the Avatar would realize he was lying to a spirit," he says tonelessly. A great sigh comes from his beak. "Obviously he's too afraid to confront anything. I suppose it's in his nature. And he's learned to cower more as he travels."

Katara opens her eyes but just barely, offering a squint to the giant black owl, and her heart seems to stop when she sees how _close_ he is. She swallows. Momo digs his little paws into her braid and burrows into the crook of her neck.

"Yeah," she laughs breathlessly, nervously. "That just might come back to bite him."

Wan Shi Tong regards her silently for a very long time without a single blink. When he finally does close his eyes, it is for so long that when they reopen there is an odd popping noise, like a bubble bursting. He cocks his head… like a _real_ owl. It's almost hard to think that he's not really what he appears to be.

"Your friends," he says, "up there. They're in danger, I think."

He stretches his neck up at the one place where the sun comes in. Then he nods.

"Sandbenders." A clawed foot comes up and scratches behind what must be an ear-hole. "They are so irritating." Wan Shi Tong lets his foot down and turns to Katara again, and his eyes are sparkling—Katara didn't think eyes could actually do that. "I have one mummified on the third level. Would you like to see?"

Katara stares for a minute and clears her throat. She's not fond of dead things, doesn't think she ever will be, and something is clearly wrong with Appa and she had more time she might humor him. She wonders, then, if he's lonely. He must be if he'd let someone like Sokka in.

Momo gags against the back of her neck.

"I-I think I should go," she says. She watches, panicked, as the sparkle slowly dwindles from the spirit's tar-pit eyes, pupil and iris and white—what _should _be white or maybe yellow, but they're not. Black starts to seem like a worse color than red. "I'm not crazy about mummies, actually. I mean, it was _really _nice of you to let us visit your library. I've never met a spirit before except for Yue, but she just turned into one after she… died." She's babbling. So she reaches out for the rope hanging near and grabs it. Wan Shi Tong blinks and looks between her and the rope, before his eyes narrow. Whether it's because he's irked or owls are just like that, Katara's not sure.

"Maybe sometime we'll come back and visit, after we save the world," she suggests cheerfully, before starting to hoist herself up. It takes a lot of work to stay in that tense position, knees locked together and hands gripping the rough knotted rope, but she does it because she can. A lot of time's gone by already. It's almost like Wan Shi Tong is stalling for something—again, maybe he's lonely? She guesses she'll never know.

"All right," he finally says. "I'll go to my solarium, now. Farewell."

She pauses on the rope when she realizes, "Isn't that where Aang and Sokka—"

The words die on her tongue. Wan Shi Tong's disappeared like a shadow. So she simply shrugs and keeps climbing.

* * *

When Katara reaches the top of the rope, she's greeted by a stone ledge and bright, harsh sunlight. Her breath comes fast, since it's hard work to climb up all that way, and her water skin seems heavy at her hip. Instead of being helpful and flying, Momo decided he'd hang all his weight by his paws, around her throat, and dangle the rest of his body downward. She's relieved that she is no longer in danger of choking to death. Momo's heavier than he looks.

She looks directly down and sees a furry white mass, a much smaller green form standing next to it. She frowns. Danger? _What_ danger?

"Hey, Toph!" she yells down and waves, before remembering that Toph can't see it. The girl certainly doesn't _act _blind, which is no help at all.

Toph startles, recovers her offhand posture, and tilts her head skyward.

"What!" she calls back. "Done already? About time! I've been waiting out here forever!"

"Actually—" Katara's voice fades a bit, and then she shouts again. "Wan Shi Tong said you were in trouble!"

Toph's face twists. "Who?"

"The… giant… _owl _thing in here! It's a long story, but he knows everything, so can you help me get down there?"

Toph hesitates. "I don't need any help, Katara. You can relax."

"_Relax_?" Katara repeats. "Relax. Toph. I'm hanging sixty feet in the air by a rope and there's nothing between me and the ground but _Momo_. Relaxing is about the last thing on my mind right now."

Momo hears. He lets go of her neck and makes an irritated noise, diving out of the window before Katara has a chance to protest. She sighs and heaves herself up onto the windowsill, leaning heavily on her elbows, and begins to wonder why she's not afraid of heights. A good fall can kill you, after all. She wishes for a moment that she was an airbender.

Suddenly Toph turns around.

"Do you hear that?" she asks, and crosses her arms. Katara squints into the desert sun, whose light is quickly fading.

"Hear what?"

"That," Toph points, roughly in the direction of a huge cloud of sand.

* * *

Appa is freaked out.

There's really no other definition for it; he's roaring and snorting and _kicking_ and sneezing gusts of wind. And Toph, always the tremendous support, is trying to calm him down in her version of blaring loud words and waving her hands. Or maybe she's freaked out too. Katara can't tell.

"Toph! Screaming at him is _not_ going to help!" she yells down. Toph probably looks furious, but Katara's eyes are beginning to water and she can't see as well. Momo has come back and is presently hanging on her braid. A headache is blossoming somewhere behind her left eye, and that whole side of her face is numb and fuzzy, like legs when they've fallen asleep before you. She wonders if this is how Zuko feels constantly; she'll have to ask him next time he tries to kill them all.

"What _is?_" Toph counters. "He won't _do anything! _He won't fly, he won't walk; all he's doing is throwing a fit! I think he's scared of whatever that noise is!"

Katara looks at the sun. Through the sand and her involuntary tears, all it looks like is the moon in a night sky. A little brighter, of course, but it's the same shape and color. If the storm reaches Toph and Appa, who don't have shelter, they might be in some serious trouble. She begins to feel a breeze.

"I'm going to find Aang, Sokka, and Professor Zei!" she yells. "We have to get away from this sandstorm before it hits!"

"That's what that is?" Toph asks, and looks towards the horizon as though she can see it. "Just feels like a bunch of humming to me. And wind."

Katara looks once at the horizon, and sees a darkening cloud steadily climbing over the ground. Sand _hurts_ when it comes at you fast enough. "It's going to be a lot louder pretty soon!" she says, and starts to inch downward on her rope. "I'll come back!"

There's no answer. Only Appa replies, with a wheeze and a groan. Katara takes a deep breath and begins to fly.

* * *

Flying has its disadvantages. Katara knows this now. The biggest one is when you _aren't _a naturally flying animal and you need to _stop_.

She's got identical red stripes on the insides of both her palms, and her knees hurt when the scratchy blue cloth of her outfit rubs them. But a rope burn is a small price to pay for not dying overall.

As she's looking around the empty dark library, she hisses and shakes her hands to relieve some of the soreness, and it works for some reason. Soon the sharp pain dulls down to a throb, one she thinks must be her heartbeat, and she decides she'll heal herself as soon as she finds the others.

"Hello?" she calls, and cups her hands around her mouth. She leans slightly toward the empty hallway to her left. Which way did they go through, again?

A groan is quickly stifled, and she starts to pace back and forth on the bridge. Where would the solarium be? Wan Shi Tong would know, of course, but he's nowhere that she can see. She's frustrated and Appa might die with Toph and there's nothing she can do about it now, because how is she supposed to find everyone before the sandstorm reaches the library?

"Great," she mutters to herself. She really isn'tlooking forward to spending the rest of her life searching for three people in a dark, miserable, old, dusty library with pictures of left handed Avatars that she is certainly _not _jealous of in any way.

She pauses in her steps.

"_Hello?_" she asks, louder this time. She thinks she heard someone shout. And she's pretty sure it came from the right—

"Katara, CATCH!"

She swivels around with just enough time for a pack, a _heavy _pack, to thump into her stomach. She gets hold of it weakly, but all the air is knocked from her lungs and she collapses to her knees. A small confused noise slips from her mouth. When she can breathe again, she takes huge gulps of air and observes Sokka and Aang bickering between two close bookshelves at Professor Zei, who's sitting stubbornly on his rear with ten books cradled in his arms. She makes out only one phrase, and it's because the words are loud and there's _fantastic_ acoustics in here.

"…I've spent too long looking for this place."

Sokka mutters something like _fine then_, throws his hands up and turns away, practically sprinting toward Katara. She didn't think he could run that fast. Aang seems a little more patient, though, so he bows shortly at Professor Zei before following.

When her brother passes, Katara doesn't look at him. She begins to see sand trickling down the sides of the walls, gathering on the floor and everywhere else like the flip side of an hourglass. Sokka chooses that moment to grab her hand and haul her up.

"Come on, Katara, what are you sitting down for? That lunatic owl's going to get us!" he cries, and Aang nods furiously.

Suddenly her head clears. There's sand everywhere. _More than before. _The library is _sinking! _

"What did you _do?_" she asks, loudly enough for Sokka to cringe. He turns, gives her a guilty look, and snatches the bag from her arms. She glares.

"Nothing!" Sokka says, with that whine he uses when he wants something. He straightens his back and tries to appear flippant. "Now, if you don't mind, I think we should be going."

The shriek of an angry bird makes her break her stare and turn, to the hallway where Aang and Sokka came from. Her breath catches in her throat; Wan Shi Tong loses feathers as he's tearing past shelves and terrified foxes and _Professor Zei_—but ignores the latter, which is kind of a relief. Sokka obviously did _way _more than 'nothing' to cause this kind of a reaction in the spirit.

"…_They are doing what all human beings do when they come here—searching for a way to destroy their enemy." _

Oh.

_Oh. _

"Sokka, you are so dead!" she cries, shaking the arm that's latched onto her. But she doesn't get to elaborate or make good on that promise, because Aang's yelling and he has his glider and they're going up, up the tower to escape. They're out of the window when Wan Shi Tong's beak tears a warm, wet gash in Katara's right calf and takes the boot with him.

* * *

It _hurts._

* * *

She doesn't scream, though, because her heart is pounding fast enough to relay her surprise. She looks down, and sees blood running along her ankle just before it takes the very long fall to the ground.

The last thing she sees before going unconscious is Toph falling backwards from the library's highest tower, which disappears into the sand.

* * *

"I'm hungry."

"Good grief, Sokka."

"Well, I _am. _Do you think we still have any of that jerky Chey gave us?"

"…That was jerky?"

"You burned it again, didn't you. Aang—"

"Sorry, can't hear anything! The wind!"

"Huh."

"…Hey, Sokka?"

"Yeah, Toph?"

"Do you think Katara will wake up?"

"I don't know. She lost a lot of blood, but I think I wrapped her leg up pretty well."

"Right. _After _you wrapped up the wrong one."

"I'll have you know, I'm perfectly versed in all things medicine, so… back off. And that was _practice_."

"It was still wrong."

"How would you know? You can't even _see_."

"It was pretty obvious. You kept saying 'Oh darn it that's not right' and 'I knew it was the wrong leg' and 'Dumb Fire Nation messes everything up' and a bunch of other stuff. Why that last one, though?"

"…Because it's true."

The first thought Katara has is that she's sleeping—and consequentially, dreaming. Toph and Sokka always argue in them (not that she dreams like that regularly) and Toph always wins. It doesn't matter if the debate's about who would look better in a dress—Jet or Aang?—or why the Boulder talks in third person all the time. She always reaches the end of the argument before wondering _why_ she'd be thinking about anything remotely like that again.

But she can always seein her dreams. And everything's dark now. Her next guess is that she's just woken up, rather than fallen asleep.

Katara tries to speak, but it comes out as a painful moan. Her leg throbs steadily and it feels so _sticky _and gritty, but from the top of her wound all the way up her leg is numb, so at least she doesn't have to deal with that. The sun's in her face. Her face is prickly and hot, so she just _knows_ she has a sunburn by now…

She's going to do something bad to Sokka. She doesn't know what just yet, but it won't be good. And _then_ she'll find the owl again and give him a piece of her mind. She just hopes it doesn't come down to being an argument on literature; the best she can do there is recite a few dramatic lines from a romance scroll.

Something suddenly hits her leg, right on the cut, and it sends pain shooting up her spine. She moans again.

"Jeez Sokka, kick her while she's down, why don't you."

"Oh, I'm sorry! Ow!"

Katara opens her eyes—a squint, really, but she can see a little. She almost expects to see Wan Shi Tong or something. Instead it's Sokka, inches away from her face. One of his hands is held in midair above her forehead. She thinks, albeit distantly, that he must be giving her shade.

She wishes she were able to say something clever to scare them a bit, like _Sokka, when did you grow a beard?_ or, _There's something inside my head, quick get it, it's scratching and scratching and __**pain**__—oh wait that's always been there_, but all that comes out is "water," in an exceptionally rough voice. It doesn't exactly lighten the situation like she wanted to do.

"Wa… oh, she's awake! Water! Toph, can you get it out?"

There's a grumble and a thud, a pause, and then something hard presses down on her bottom lip. It's cold, so she opens her mouth and slightly stalewater rushes down her throat. It's such a relief that she almost forgets to swallow. When she's finished, she lifts a hand to her head and her eyes fly open.

"Ugh?"

"Wan Shi Tong," Sokka says before he can stop himself. "He bit you. And took your boot." A dark expression crosses his face. "I _made_ you those boots."

Katara rolls her eyes, and shifts to rest her weight on her hands. With a great amount of effort, she sits up against the side of Appa's saddle. She feels short for some reason.

"Well, I'm sure it didn't taste very good," Katara reassures her brother, thinly veiled sarcasm in her voice. Sokka only shakes his head and smiles.

"We were really worried, sis," he says. Aang (Katara's just noticed that he's turned toward her and grinning) confirms this quickly and a little mumble comes from Toph, but Katara can't hear exactly what it is. Sokka grabs her hand while she's trying to use Toph logic and figure it out.

"Now that you're better, look down there," Sokka says and points over the saddle, sitting so he's right next to Katara and facing the opposite way. She cranes her neck uncomfortably and sees the wide expanse of desert.

Well, not actually the desert; the ground is rolling and shifting. Everything comes back to her in a wave.

"We're flying over the sandstorm?" she says, her eyes following the movements of the sand as it rushes underneath them. "Glad we're not in _that_."

Sokka is silent, except for a shrug and a weak smile.

"…I mean, it's not even that far below. Nasty weather, huh?"

Aang rubs his head. "Well…"

"Well what?"

"…Nothing."

Katara makes a face at the back of his head once he turns.

"All right, what's going on?" She looks to Toph for assistance, and the latter scoffs.

"You're not the _only _one who got hurt," she says, pointing somewhere around Appa's tail. "We're gonna have to land at the stinky ice dump again."

"_Misty Palms_ _Oasis_," Aang corrects. "And Appa needs his rest, right, boy?"

Appa grunts.

Katara resigns herself to staring forlornly at the sandstorm below, once she's through gaping at the red stain in Appa's fur. Maybe now she'll try giving it a delicate glare. A little squint of her eyes, and a contract of her mouth, and she's pretty sure she's got it. But then Sokka has to ruin everything.

"Are you okay, Katara? You look like you're about to cry. In which case I'd have to hug you and I really don't think you would like that. Sweaty and all."

Katara rubs her eyes. It's going to be a _very _long trip.

* * *

Fifteen minutes has gone by when Appa makes his first noticeable jolt, and his tail curls inward before flattening again.

Katara considers the fact that it may be a pretty bad idea to climb out and heal him, but when she asks Sokka to confirm this, he fixes her with The Look.

"I'm your brother, so I'm gonna have to say _yes_. And come to think of it, if I were anyone else, I would _still _say yes."

Her next question is if Aang can see the stinky ice dump yet. The waterbender is still not quite afraid of heights, but she's almost there.

* * *

"I see it!" Aang finally says, his back going from a slouch to perfectly straight, the posture he only gets when he's happy or in more trouble than he can exactly handle himself. "The storm hasn't gotten here, either! This is going to be easier than I thought."

Katara sits up slowly—her tailbone is numb and she has a crick in her neck from letting it hang backward over the saddle—and grimaces, because she can't feel _either _of her legs now as well as a number of other things she'd like to complain about, but can't. Stupid owl. "Really?"

"That's a relief," Toph says, and then seems to change her mind. "But also… not. I hate sand. How long is this thing gonna last?"

"When I lived in the Southern Air Temple," says Aang excitedly, "I heard about a sandstorm in the Si Wong that lasted for a whole year."

"Perfect," says Sokka.

Katara wonders what would happen to him if he lost his sarcasm.

* * *

They begin their descent a few minutes later, and throughout that time Aang _never _stops talking about the huge storm that happened in this very desert a hundred-something years ago. He doesn't turn to face them, instead making hand motions and waving where he's the only one who can see it, and that means _he_ can'tsee Sokka tighten his mouth and cross his arms or Toph let a grin creep onto her face. Katara's actually pretty surprised at her brother's self-restraint.

"_What did you __**do**__?"_

"_Nothing!" _

Whatever that nothing was, it obviously put _him_ in a decent mood. A motion catches her eye and she sees Aang with his arms in the air. He's just mimicked an explosion.

When they're close enough to land, Katara looks back and sees the storm is not far off. Then she looks at the small square, where in the center the greatly diminished ice fountain is being hurriedly covered with a tarp and nailed down. The two kneeling men that are doing this look remarkably like the sandbenders they'd seen the first time they'd gotten here—although, they all look the same when wearing those weird outfits and hats.

"Excuse me!" Aang jumps off Appa when he touches down and rushes toward them. They hesitate before standing and staring at him, one slinging a mallet over his shoulder and turning his head to spit. From what Katara can rationalize, Aang is asking for a place to stay and a place to put Appa for an indefinite amount of time; she thinks he must have forgotten how little money they have left. But they do have to do _something_, and he's one of the few males she knows who will burden himself to ask for help.

The sandbender on the left looks at the other, shrugs, and outstretches his hand to Aang expectantly.

"I thought so," mutters Katara.

Aang pats everywhere on his person that could conceivably be a pocket, and shakes his head sheepishly after a thorough search. Both of the sandbenders kneel down again and return to their work, but not before gesturing wearily in the direction of the tavern and an adjoining stone building that looks suspiciously like a barn, though apparently it's a flower and tea shop—judging by what the overhead sign says. Obviously Aang didn't _need_ to pay after all. And even they aren't cruel enough to leave someone out, unprotected, in this big of a storm.

Toph wakes up with a snort just as Aang's coming back. She rubs her eyes and yawns, uncrossing her legs and letting them lay flat across her space.

"Are we there yet?"

"Yes, actually," Katara says. She takes a moment to stare at Momo, who's curled up in Toph's lap. He's cute when he sleeps. "I guess we're staying in the tavern."

And, predictably, that's exactly what Aang says. Then he rubs his head and mentions that it is, after all, a _tavern_, and they might serve really good fruity drinks but it's best not to try other… assorted beverages as long as they stay there. Sokka points out that he's very susceptible to influence and on the off-chance that he gets drunk not to judge him. Katara scoffs. Toph simply looks glum as she scratches behind Momo's ears.

When they start to unpack the saddle and get off, they each clutch a sleeping bag and two other sacks to carry inside. Aang tosses Sokka his staff and turns to Appa, gently patting the bison's nose before taking his reins in both hands and tugging—then stomping—away.

* * *

Once they are inside and Appa has been put to safety, Aang loudly observes that the tavern is much bigger-looking when all the chairs and tables have been stacked.

Sokka says it does not.

A debate ensues.

With a roll of her eyes, Katara reaches down to take Toph's hand, ignores how the younger girl's face twists up in distaste, and marches (limps with a bare aching foot) over to an unoccupied corner where she dumps her pack and sleeping bag. After some coaxing from her friend, Toph does the same.

"So, this is it," she says.

"Yeah," says Katara. "Not much, but we're not dead, right?"

"I guess."

Katara smiles a little. "Aw, come on," she urges, nudging Toph in the side before sitting and carefully crossing her legs. "This will be over before you know it."

Toph shakes her head and leans over her conspiratorially. "You heard Twinkle Toes. This storm could last for a hundred _years, _and then we'd have a main course of never getting to defeat the Fire Lord with a side dish of death."

Katara sighs. Her smile disappears. "Well, that's one way of putting it," she mutters lowly, almost all pretense of happiness gone. They're stuck here for goodness knows how long, and she doesn't know how she will compensate for all four good moods without... exploding, or something.

Oh, well.

She's done it before. She can do it again.

"Here, help me set these out," Katara says. She reaches over to her sleeping bag and pulls it onto her lap, unhooking the clasp that keeps it bundled together and letting it roll out by itself. The ground next to her looks clean enough so she lays it out beside her and fingers the fur lining.

"But I don't _want _Sokka's," Toph complains. "It smells funky. And not a good funky either."

Katara pauses. She takes a slow, deep breath. "I remember," she says gently. "Would you rather sleep on the floor?" Asking is better than nothing, she figures. So when Toph smiles—a real one, she'll have to remember that—she knows she finally said something right in the girl's presence.

"Yes, _please,_" Toph says with actual enthusiasm. With two grunts and stomps of her feet she's created both sides of an earth tent that sprout up from the floor where the sleeping bag was. After an extended consideration, Katara decides not to mention that since they're inside, a _tent_ wouldn't really be needed.

Who is she to tell Toph what to do, anyway?

Sokka walks over with a cup of fruit juice and begins twiddling with the tiny complimentary umbrella. He grins, and seems about to say something, when he abruptly changes his mind and starts to look rather perplexed. He lifts an eyebrow at Katara.

"Hey, where's my sleeping bag?"

* * *

People have begun to file into the tavern under a very loud warning that all the entrances to all buildings are about to be boarded up. A few very burly men have come in and leaned against the wall, smoldering at each other; the tension is palpable and it's quite obvious none of them want to be in the same room as the other, but it hasn't come to blows. Yet. Perhaps it's because of all the willowy women with babies who had come in straight after.

Mustn't upset a baby, after all. Katara knows this from experience.

A small group of not-so-burly men have gathered in the opposite corner from the bar. They begin to complain that it's too dark in here and they could have done better across the street and do you call that fancy decoration and that man has nothing to do with his swords but cut fruit, does he. They're like a bunch of old ladies. But even old ladies get bored of gossip eventually, so they turn their gazes toward the women with babies and… ogle.

Katara's a little creeped out. But she shakes her head and makes herself forget about it.

"Hey Sokka?"

Sokka looks up from a scroll he has. He's _smiling. _

"Yes, dearest sister?"

_Oohkay..._

"What are you looking at?"

He shakes his head at her. Like she's_ incompetent_ or something.

"Oh, nothing important really," he says smoothly. "You wouldn't be interested."

Katara narrows her eyes.

"Why?"

"Well, because you don't like this kind of stuff."

"_What _kind of stuff? Sokka, I swear—"

"Jeez, relax. It's just guy stuff, _okay? _Satisfied?"

She humphs. "All right, be that way," she says, and turns her head away from him. She sits up straighter and makes motions to bend the water out of their skins. If she can't get something out of Sokka, she might as well find something else to take up her time.

The first touch of water on her rope burned hands is euphoric. She sighs in pleasure and allows the water to ebb and heal. Considering the burns weren't that big, it doesn't take long for them to be completely free of blemish. They don't even throb.

When her hand wanders down to her leg and bare foot, though, she inhales sharply. Her dress has been torn away from that part of her thighs and the one leg is thickly covered in bandages. If her gash looks as bad as it feels, she's pretty sure she might not make it through the unwrapping stage.

"Hey, Aang?" she calls loudly, but not too loudly, since she doesn't like unnecessary attention. The boy looks up; he has been playing Pai Sho with a disgruntled old bald man at one of the tables that hasn't been stacked. He glances at her and smiles amicably.

"Yeah?"

"I need some help." She squeezes her eyes shut and focuses on the noise of Toph's snoring, which is occasionally disturbed by a grunt or a mumbled word. At least it doesn't sound like little voices in her head saying she's going to cry. The next time she hears Aang's voice it is coming from right next to her.

"What's wrong, Katara?"

She forces her eyes open.

"My… leg," she says. "I need to heal it, but I'm not sure if I can…" she gestures weakly in the direction of the bandages, "…do that myself." Aang nods reassuringly.

"Don't worry, I was always _great_ helping out the nurse at the Air Temple," he says. Down on his knees, he shuffles to her leg and touches the edge of the bandage so lightly she can't feel it. "Just don't look. That'll make it worse." He sounds like he's quoting someone—but he probably is. Compliantly, she closes her eyes again and thinks about anything, everything but the blistering heat and the torn skin she can picture in her head. After all, looking will just make it worse…

* * *

When she is utterly exhausted and demands a delicious fruity beverage for her struggles, Katara slouches against her wall and takes small sips of the papaya-berry drink. At least it's _cold. _

She _tried_ to heal her cut all the way, she really did. But it was simply too tiring to keep it up for more than five minutes. To be honest, she's proud of herself.

Aang has given her several romance books and scrolls he apparently smuggled from the library, and she has decided he couldn't be a better friend. She only wonders how he was able to put them into Sokka's pack without the latter noticing—after all, so many books couldn't possibly fit up Aang's shirt (there's no room left since he keeps his toothbrush and marbles in there).

Toph snorts.

This comes as a surprise because ever since Momo crept in with her to take a nap, she's been strangely quiet. Katara shrugs it off and notices that her cup is melting and water is running down her fingers.

"BOARDING UP! LAST CHANCE TO FIND SHELTER, COME INSIDE OR FACE YOUR SANDY DOOM! HEY, YOU, OVER THERE! YEAH, YOU! WHAT ARE YOU DOING LYING AROUND? YOU THINK I'M JOKING? YOU WANNA DIE? MOVE IT!"

The voice that's yelling is gravelly and deep and manly and… a woman's. Katara watches as the plump lady ushers in a group of last-minute stragglers and purses her lips at them disapprovingly, to which they duck their heads and mumble stuttering apologies. Six sandbenders are nailing boards to each open window, and every now and then one drops to his knees and clutches his hand. Katara observes that they must not be very patient.

The screaming woman has both hands on her generous hips and her dark eyebrows are bunched together as she peers around the dimly lit tavern. Her eyes flit across Katara's face and lock on Toph's earth tent, and she stares at that for a bit before muttering darkly to herself and turning back to the door. She must have decided a lecture isn't worth her time.

…Boy, would she be in for a surprise.

"I SAID _HURRY_!"

Her outburst causes several of the small babies in the room to jolt from unconsciousness and begin to cry; Katara feels sorry for one mother, who winces when her child shrieks before spitting up on her shoulder.

"Katara, check this out!"

Sokka leans over from his little area—he and Aang are sitting on his sleeping bag next to a table that's pushed against the wall, and reviewing some scrolls—and pokes her on the shoulder. She looks at him in response.

"Okay, I'll read it to you then. 'The darkest day in Fire Nation History prompted a massive panic throughout the entire Fire Nation, causing citizens to vastly overreact. Many riots were recorded that day throughout the whole continent, and it was agreed that time should be stricken from—'"

"_Uncle, _I told you we would be stuck! How _long _are we going to be in here?"

A harsh question spoken by a familiar voice causes Sokka to freeze in the middle of his sentence and look up. Aang does the same and his eyes are so wide, Katara knows it can't just be a coincidence that the demand sounds exactly like who's been chasing them around the world for as long as Aang has been out of the iceberg.

She peers up just as the door is starting to be nailed shut, each swing of the hammer drilling one more reason into her brain why they should really get out of here. Being stuck in a room with your worst enemy isn't a good idea, but that might be only her opinion.

_Zuko, _she thinks. But his angry yellow gaze is locked on Aang, and doesn't move. Aang is paralyzed.

"…_You!"_

* * *

_:O_


	2. Persistence

_Sorry for the wait, all of you who are still out there. I'm a very slow writer. If you don't like those, I would probably suggest forgetting about this story..._

_Anyway, I've gotten a few PMs which said shorter chapters are easier to keep up with. __I'll **try,** but I can't make any promises, haha. Once I get carried away it's a bit hard for me to find a place to stop. _

_Oh, and sorry in advance for any glaring errors you might find. I haven't gotten a good chance to edit, and I'm going to a wedding tomorrow, so point them out and I will fix them! _

_Repudiation__: Because 'disclaimer' is too mainstream. Ah, memes._

* * *

"In the face of an obstacle which is impossible to overcome, stubbornness is stupid."

-_Simone de Beauvoir_

* * *

_..._

The first moment that the sandstorm hits the tavern is something like a wave.

Katara hadn't noticed someone was playing a tsungi horn until they land on a sour note and abruptly stop, and for some reason the atmosphere seems appropriate—before the moment passes and returns to its orderly shrieks, horn blasts, and _thunk_s of metal hitting wood.

The old man with gray sideburns and a beard that followed Zuko into the tavern has to _physically restrain _the displeased firebender. It doesn't look like particular fun, and yet Katara can tell he has some practice in doing this. Immediately after Zuko's outburst, a scattering of people began to watch the two companions with something akin to amusement, but there are a wide range of expressions in each of their eyes and so it's hard to tell what they're _really_ thinking. Like Wan Shi Tong. But Katara is _not_ thinking about that.

Zuko looks at the man with clear betrayal crossing his face and only stops struggling when the former says a few words into his ear. Katara smirks at this. But her little smile begins to fade when she realizes…

Zuko has even _more _hair than before, when they saw him back at the ruins of that small town! It covers his whole head!

Admittedly, she can honestly say he looked more… intimidating when he had that stupid ponytail. But still.

The old man (he looks familiar now—wasn't he the one who attacked Zhao after the angry guy punched the moon spirit fish… Zuko's uncle, maybe?) pats Zuko's shoulder briefly before moving toward Aang. When he is only five feet away, a cautionary distance, he bows in a way that seems to make Aang relax. But Aang trusts too easily. So Katara is all the more suspicious for him.

Zuko's uncle says, "Hello."

No threats.

No warnings.

No… fire.

If she didn't _know better, _the waterbender would say he sounded friendly. Even charming. …If one can judge that from a single word.

"Hi," says Aang warily. He and Sokka look at each other, before Aang rubs the back of his neck. Inconspicuously, his hand reaches out to touch his glider. "Well, I guess you want to take me prisoner or something now, huh?"

Zuko's uncle chuckles. "Not at all," he says and waves a hand. "Unlike my nephew, I dislike making enemies in close quarters."

"It wouldn't be _making _enemies if you're already against us," Sokka points out. The old man only smiles at him before effectively changing the subject.

"I don't suppose they have much tea here," he says. Katara thinks he sounds a little forlorn.

"Nope, only fruit drinks." Aang shakes his head. "But there's a tea shop next door. That's where I'm keeping Appa, my flying bison."

"Oh, yes? I have heard they're very gentle creatures."

"Yeah! Appa wouldn't hurt a spider-fly!"

Zuko's uncle turns to Sokka next. "And you, young man," he says politely. "You are from the South Pole, correct?"

Sokka frowns and says nothing.

"I once courted a most lovely woman from the South Pole. But it didn't last, you see, because after I accidentally broke her father's favorite spear, the atmosphere got a little _chilly_."

The joke brings to mind King Bumi's pun about Kangaroo Island, but apparently Sokka doesn't think so. He stares at the uncle and blinks.

"…Who _are _you?"

After a rather disappointed pause, the former gives out an amused sigh and sits before Aang and Sokka, to which the Water Tribe boy flinches away; Katara is prouder of her brother than she's hardly ever been for not being as naïve as _Aang. _

Then her gaze turns to Zuko, who's still standing by the doorway with his arms crossed and a childishly angry pout on his face. What's worse is that he's constantly looking from his uncle, to Sokka, to Aang, to her. What did_ she _do? If anything, she should be the one glaring at his stupid face.

The old man introduces himself as Iroh, once known as the Dragon of the West. He and Aang talk about tea, Pai Sho, and how things were so much better a long time ago. Sokka eventually warms up to the conversation.

Katara's pride dissipates into a suspicious scowl. She can't look at _any _of them, now.

* * *

Zuko slowly wanders over. Katara watches his every move, but the banished prince never gets within an arm's reach of Aang. Instead, he picks what looks like a really uncomfortable spot on the ground between herself and Sokka.

It's odd that he's this close to her and not blasting fire in her face, or even glaring at her with hatred and confusion because she's protecting the best thing that has ever happened to her.

He looks at her out of the corner of his good eye. But he keeps his distance.

She keeps hers.

An unspoken agreement is made.

* * *

Later, when Katara's drink is gone and her ice cup is nothing but a little puddle of water on the floor, she feels the sandstorm begin to heighten. The impact, more than anything, startled everybody; now the wind is whistling and sand is finding its way in through cracks in the walls.

The wall is cool where Katara rests her head against it. She is grateful for this. She knows she should be able to be comfortable for as long as she's living in this place, but she's not sure if she will have to guard her little spot, or if she will not.

Toph won't.

Toph will inflict bodily harm on anyone who suggests she should move.

_It's __**my **__earth tent, _she will say as she stands over someone's barely conscious form. _Didn't your mother teach you manners? Can't believe I left the good life for this. _

Oh yes, Katara goes over these things in her head. She thinks up conversations, plans them out, but they almost never go like she wants. Which is why she is left speechless so often. She knows Toph pretty well, though, so she thinks she can predict just this one time.

However, she doesn't like to predict Sokka. So when she reaches over to grab a book off of the neat little pile to her right, she does not expect him to sniff at her.

"Women and their books," he says not quite under his breath, and bumps Aang in the side with his elbow. Aang haltingly says something that must egg him on and he grins. Katara bites her tongue, because _now _Zuko is staring at her more than ever, and so is his uncle! Iroh is a nice kind of stare though.

Zuko's a weirdo.

The waterbender shakes her head and forces a tiny, humoring smile. Inside she is almost seething.

_Men! _She thinks. _Who does he think he is? Dad? _

When she is suitably comfortable in her little corner, sitting on her sleeping bag with both legs stretched far out in front, her thoughts soften and she refuses to think anymore.

* * *

"There," Katara mutters, opening and perching both edges of the book on her knees. It is reasonably bright in her part of the tavern, so she has no trouble making out the first characters and making her way onward. "Much better."

'_Once, in the time of seashells, there was a beautiful girl named Liaoning. _

Liaoning. What a nice name.

'_Liaoning lived with her mother in a tiny house on the very top of Lee Yang mountain, the mountain of light, and so they were always safe from the battles that raged between the mountain's village and the valley it overlooked. They were bloody, terrible wars, and had taken the life of Liaoning's father not three years before. _

"Oh," Katara whispers, her brows furrowing. She brings a finger up to her mouth and begins to chew on the nail.

'_But all was not well in the tiny house atop the mountain. One day while Liaoning was picking crocuses for her mother, as she did every day, she stumbled across a man in blue by her family's well. When she had recovered from her surprise, she pointed and spoke angrily at him. _

"_You are from Kong Hee-yan," she accused, "the empty and dark valley. You have come to kill us." _

'_But as she began to draw her father's dagger from her bosom—_

Bosom! How crude!

'—_the man in blue cried out, and knelt prostrate at her feet. _

Now why would he do that, Katara wonders. She moves on to the next fingernail.

"_I have not come to murder anybody," he said, voice choked with emotion. "I have come to escape! My body is wounded, and my family has no hope!"_

Oh, brother.

_He continued, but sat up and looked into her eyes. "I beg for your help," he said, shaking his head. "My name is Yarouk, and I swear that I mean you no harm. I do not make habits of hurting beautiful women." _

"_I do not understand," Liaoning gasped, dismissing his words. "Your village is winning the war, is it not? Why do you travel all this way to ask for assistance—and from the enemy?" _

_Yarouk stood and took her hands. "I come," he said, disregarding his breach of propriety and gazing at her with evergreen eyes. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he said—_

"What are you reading?"

Katara yelps and slams her book shut. In her line of vision, Yarouk's deep sea-green eyes fizzle into a distinctly _not _green color, quite the near opposite actually, and one begins to squint until she is sure it isn't a nervous flinch.

Stupid Zuko, ruining her book like that. What is he doing so _close_, anyway? They had an… _agreement_. And while she's at it, what a dumb hat he's carrying around too. Katara puts on one of her most sour faces and meets his gaze evenly.

"Nothing," she says, and it sounds rather like a challenge. He frowns but there's an unused expression in his eyes.

It fades soon enough. "Humph," he says and turns his head away. But not before he mutters blearily, "Well, if it has food in it don't show it to me. I'll probably try to eat it."

It takes a minute to process Zuko's comment; Katara wonders dimly if she should check to see if he's been possessed by some sort of body inhabiting spirit. Isn't this the part where he calls her a peasant and snorts like a komodo rhino? Perhaps Iroh told him to 'get along.' After a few moments of Zuko glancing curiously at her and obviously waiting for something, she chuckles falsely to mask her confusion. But he doesn't notice (at least she doesn't think so). From what she can tell he looks very pleased with his humorous self. Apparently, no one ever laughs at his jokes. It's really not that hard to figure out _why_.

"Go look in _Sokka's_ bag," she says, "if you're wondering where all the food scrolls are at." She opens her book again but this time to the table of contents and runs her finger along wrinkles in the page. She has _no idea _what she's doing, playing along, but it's probably a game he's thought up. He'll attempt to get the trust of everyone in the group, and then turn around and try to take Aang. Well, she'll be ready. He can count on it.

"…I'm sure he'll burn them eventually though," she adds to her little jibe on her brother. Both Katara and Zuko's voices have been low all along, but that addition was a bit loud. Hence, Sokka is instantaneously involved.

"What?" he asks. Katara has no choice but to look at him, and Zuko does the same, peering over his shoulder.

"Nothing, Sokka," she says. He looks skeptical.

"What are you talking—"

Stupidly, she declares, "We're talking about you."

When his eyes widen, Katara knows it was the wrong thing to say, and makes to fix it. Only, she can't fix it. When Sokka is riled up he doesn't take no for an answer for the next thirty seconds at least. He starts by huffing and puffing out his chest and the rest is downhill.

"Katara?"

"Yes?"

"Let me get something straight."

"_Really_?"

"You do _not—_"

An arm waved across his space.

"Sokka."

"—Talk about _family—"_

Toph tries unsuccessfully to stifle a case of the chuckles.

Katara flinches at the knowledge that the earthbender is awake. Or maybe she's laughing in her sleep. Toph is odd like that. _"Sokka."_

"To him!"

A finger jabbed into a chest. Zuko's, to be exact. The latter looks lost, embarrassed, and a little irked that Sokka is touching him.

"Ugh, Sokka!"

Katara is _mortified._

"He's the _enemy_."

"Yeah, I _know—_"

"We had this talk at_ home_, you know."

"_When?_"

"You remember! Just stop, okay?"

Katara's eyes flicker to Aang, who looks very sorry for her. But he knows better than to interfere in a brother-sister argument. The waterbender thinks up one last defense for herself when she looks at Zuko, because she _hates _giving Sokka the last word.

"Sokka, he has a sister too! We were just _talking_! Sometimes you can be such a jerk, did you know that?"

Then she promptly turns away and buries her face in her book, mumbling the words off of a page to herself. She doesn't focus on them, though; her face won't stop burning even though she tells herself half the people in the tavern _aren't _looking at her along with Toph, Aang, and (_how dare he be) _entertained Zuko.

_Just wonderful, _she thinks. _Another weak spot Zuko knows about now. Great going, Sokka. _

She only wishes she'd never been locked in a small area with the person she wants to hurt most.

* * *

"How did you know I have a sister?"

The question comes as a bit of a surprise, as Katara had not expected to be spoken to for the next few days at least. She is grasping her book too tightly. Whether it is from shame or over-excitement from of her story, one can only guess. She looks warily into Zuko's eyes.

"I didn't." the statement comes out a bit harsher than she intended. But really, it is his fault. He shouldn't have chosen to be her enemy for she will never like him _now_. And he shouldn't have disturbed her reading at the moment when Yarouk and Liaoning kiss for the very first time.

He looks taken aback, and his mouth opens uselessly for a minute; the irritation on her face is turning into mild antipathy and she feels distantly proud of herself that she has rendered him speechless.

"But—" he says. "But you said—"

"I was guessing," Katara responds with no small amount of indignity. "Do you?"

He knits his brows together. "Do I what?"

She has to fight off the urge to snap, but finds a solution and bites her tongue instead. If he can play the stupid game, then so can she.

"Have a sister?"

"Oh. Um, yeah." He holds his hat in his hands and fiddles with the woven straw holding it together. "I do."

"What's her name?"

He looks at her in disbelief; she looks at him innocently.

The safer she makes him feel, the sooner he'll turn.

And that will be over with.

"Azula."

It is Katara's turn to feel confused. The name Azula brings to mind blue fire and lightning, a sharp Fire Nation face, and one girl dressed in pink, the other black. Burned landscape. Knives cracking an ice shield. And suddenly she remembers.

"_Oh_," she exclaims. She's almost embarrassed that she is halfway enthusiastic about her memory. "Oh. I know who you're talking about." Then she pauses and her features twist in distaste. "She's your _sister?_ I mean, she looks like you, but she's so—"

"Talented?" Zuko interjects. "Amazing? Powerful? Yes, I _know._"

Katara inwardly smiles at the first reappearance of his anger.

"I was going to say evil," she says. It's a lie. She will admit that. But she hates being _predicted. _

Zuko stares at the necklace around her throat. She touches it self-consciously.

"…Evil," he echoes. He looks conflicted. "Evil. Right."

And just like it is always condemned to be, the atmosphere around Katara and Zuko is uncomfortable. Katara considers herself to be a good conversationalist. But this only applies when she's around friends. As she looks to Aang, she sees that he and Sokka are looking over a map with Iroh. Toph is sleeping again and most of the tavern's occupants are gathered sitting around the bar, listening to an old preachy-looking man. Listening to ghost stories. Katara dislikes ghosts. Especially after what her mom said happened to a friend named Nini.

"Hey, Katara!"

She turns her head. Aang is smiling at her.

"Yes?"

"Come check this out!" He holds up a large piece of parchment with a poorly drawn map on the face; Sokka is looking extra smug so he must have drawn it. She squints and makes out four of the vacation spots Aang wished to visit earlier, next to many more that he must have been previously unaware of. "There's tons of places we can go, see?" he points to a random spot. "That's a new clearing in the forest where they have a large animals zoo! You guy can ride the elephant seahorses with me!"

The very idea makes her leg throb, but Katara grins encouragingly. "That's great, Aang."

He pinks. "I thought so too."

Sokka rolls his eyes.

* * *

There comes a time in every injury's life when, after hours of being still, it decides it's going to hurt.

Katara gets an uncontrollable urge to flinch away from the ground and so with slight reluctance she does. But when she moves, her cut aches and stings and isn't content in the air either. She hisses through her teeth. Everywhere she moves, her leg goes into spasms and cramps; honestly, it hurts more than the actual infliction of the wound and she's never detested owls more in her life.

When she clenches her fists and begins to fight off another headache and tears sting the back of her eyes, she realizes it hurts more when she fights the inevitable. Eventually she's going to cry. So she does. A little series of whispering hiccups, salty droplets, and halted sobs, and the pain lessens fractionally. But even as her sight is blurred, she watches one lanky man at the bar glance at her worriedly and Zuko turn to stare at her.

The latter says, "Uh."

She almost barks at him to quit looking at her. Instead she drops her book and reaches down to the bandage covering half of her leg, almost touching it, but pulling back at the last moment. Her pitiful little sobs become interspersed with ragged breaths and she claps her free hand over her mouth, squeezing her eyes shut and feeling so _angry_—at herself, at Wan Shi Tong, at Zuko for being such a useless jerk, at Aang and Sokka and Toph for not doing anything, at her leg for not cooperating with the rest of her body. At the elephant seahorses for existing and giving her leg the idea that it could start doing _this._

Zuko asks, "What happened?" in an irate voice, and Katara just knows he is mocking her now. She turns her head and opens her eyes and is about to say something rude when she notices that Zuko looks _panicky. _Not the 'dying' panicky or the 'losing side' panicky—more like an _older brother_ panicky. It weirds her out so much more than his lame joke that she cries harder.

Zuko is mute for a while before he turns quickly and says, "Uncle!" in that same tone (obviously he's not often confronted with crying girls) and Iroh looks up, his features changing from a smile to confusion to a grim mark once he notices Katara blubbering helplessly.

"Nephew," he sighs simply. "What have you done?"

"It wasn't _me_!" Zuko retorts. "She just started crying! I was sitting here, doing nothing!"

Iroh seems to believe him and pulls on his beard. Then he looks at Katara. "May I ask what is wrong?" he says solicitously. Katara removes her hand from her face and points to her leg, but by this time Aang has leapt up, given Zuko a wide berth as he passed, and knelt next to her.

"Where does it hurt?" he asks, sounding sure of himself, as he situates the way he sits so that he can see Zuko, Sokka, Iroh and her leg at the same time. Katara gestures to the far end of her cut and Aang's fingers hover above the spot carefully before he nods.

"I'm pretty sure it's going through spasms," he says sagely. He pronounces the last word as if the taste of it is something to be choking on. "Spasms. The muscle is going crazy."

"Maybe you'll be a doctor," Katara forces out. Aang attempts a smile back, and the effect is wobbly at best.

He says, "Yeah," and accidentally pushes on her cut too hard. Katara winces and then Aang says in a startled voice, "I'll go see if they have something to put on it!"

Aang jumps up and turns away. He walks to the bar, and eventually gains the undivided attention of the bartender—the man with broadswords who cuts up fruit like nobody's business.

Hey, it's a job.

The man is attempting to salvage what is left of the ice drinking cups. Katara predicts that he'll fail. It is already so hot in here that she's sweating, and not lightly either. He and Aang strike up a conversation. Aang points to her. The man turns to a shelf and digs around.

And when Katara turns to Zuko, she sees that he is watching them intently. _Very _intently.

So she humphs. And when this does not work, she says boldly, "Don't even think about it." And her voice is_ almost_ clear of pain.

Zuko starts and turns his head to face her.

"What?" he asks, looking at her with the same weird expression, but there is the tiniest, intractable bit of guilt there.

Feeling lightheaded and knowing that she's caught him, she does not respond.

Aang returns with a small clay jar, lid off, and a hideous stench wakes Katara from half-unconsciousness.

He tells her it is called black salve. From the Foggy Swamp. That it's perfectly harmless. Might sting a little, but it's harmless. That it is putrid and he wonders what died in it.

Oh wait, that last one was Zuko's comment. She should remember to appreciate his _sharp wit_. The sod.

After the first hour of slow painful torture, Katara has gotten at least the edges done. She has hissed more than a pit viper and cried like a pathetic baby (at least Toph told her this), but she feels a keen sense of accomplishment and cannot help but smile. Aang congratulates her that there is no dirt or rocks in the cut, because they may have had to scrape out the debris with a metal-bristled brush.

She thanks him and then spends the rest of her time wiping away mental images.

Toph, awake by now, has made her way over to Iroh. She never told anyone why, but Iroh smiled at her and she grinned at him and they talked and talked. Are still talking. Zuko looks confused. Sokka sharpens his boomerang on a rock he keeps in his pack.

_Scccritch. Sccritch. Scccritchhh. Sccccc-_

"_Hey, keep it __**down**__ over there_!" one of the meaty men on the other side of the tavern bellows, and Sokka glares at him. After three minutes, he starts again. But the man no longer bothers him. Katara is grateful for this.

And then, because she has finished her first romance book, she wants to begin a new one. Yarouk and Liaoning certainly made a story to remember with their forbidden love and eventual ending of the war that kept their villages apart. Katara decides not to think about the fact that it is almost an exact replica of Oma and Shu's story.

She picks another book off the pile. The cover reads: _Fables of Love, Mystery, and Life's Lessons. _

Sounds interesting.

So Katara opens the cover and, upon seeing all the old dusty _sand _that has gathered on the first page, turns the novel toward sleeping Zuko and blows.

He wakes, exclaims in disgust, and spends quite a while brushing himself off. Katara wants more than anything to see the expression he is wearing but at the moment she must remain aloof. Besides, her behavior should be _mild _compared to Azula's. As long as Zuko is around he'll just have to get used to it.

Anyway.

"_The Woman and her Feet" _is written on the paper, in very clear characters. Katara raises an eyebrow, but turns the page.

"_There was a foolish woman named Fig, who never left her house. _

_Not to pray;_

_Not to eat;_

_Not to visit. _

_This foolish woman named Fig was terrified of the outside world. She was simply afraid of being dirty."_

Oh, yes. This had to have been written by a man.

"_And so it happened, one say, this foolish woman named Fig had a visitor. She walked slowly to her door, but did not open it, and said, 'Who is there?'_

_The visitor said, "It is me, foolish woman." _

_But Fig would not let them in, and so they went away. _

_The next afternoon, not two hours after the noon meal, Fig's mother came to call. _

'_You are unclean, my idiot daughter!' she said, being forced to open the door by herself, and she shook her cane with feeling. 'Your feet are so dirty! This does not bode well!'_

'_What would you have me do?' cried Fig the foolish woman, feeling disgust for herself. 'What will happen?'_

_but her wise mother had pity on the poor Fig, and so she granted her advice. _

'_Walk only on your hands,' she said, 'so that your feet are not dirtied and you do not anger the pure, clean spirits living in this house!' _

_So from that minute on, Fig only walked on her hands. She did not stop. _

_Not to pray;_

_Not to eat;_

_Not to visit. _

_And she was confident in herself until the strange visitor knocked on her door once again. _

'_Who is there?' she demanded. _

_The visitor spat, 'It is me, foolish woman.'_

_But Fig would not let them in, and so they went away."_

"What the heck?" Katara says softly, feeling quite confused. She must admit she misses Liaoning and Yarouk already after trying to read this weird 'life lesson.' Blinking, she closes the book, puts it down and blindly reaches for a new one.

But when she grabs what should be a book and tries to pull it toward her, she sees Zuko's hand in her own.

And he is giving her the most weirded out expression she has _ever _seen on a person.

With a "S-sorry," and a loosening grip, she drops his hand and grabs a scroll instead. There are _so many _reasons why they shouldn't be so close.

…And hasn't he been getting closer all the time? Perhaps she should ignore it. Like Toph. _Be like Toph. _

It was almost odd, Katara thinks, how Toph completely ignored Zuko as she'd awoken, only yawning before making her way over to Iroh. As if she'd expected this. But, knowing Toph, maybe she had.

Katara _does_ wonder about the earthbender quite a bit…

When Sokka comes over and kneels beside her, Katara startles. But her brother looks nonplussed and so she pays close attention.

"Where's Aang?" he whispers, sounding aggravated. He shoots a poisonous glare in Zuko's direction.

"I don't know," says Katara honestly. Her brows furrow and suddenly she realizes she _hasn't _been keeping a close eye on Aang, like she told herself to. She's been oblivious.

_Stupid! _

"Where'd he go?" she suddenly asks, alarmed and forgetting all about her brother.

"I don't _know!_" Sokka responds, exasperated. He throws his hands up in the air. "That's what I just asked you!"

"He—" Zuko begins, but Katara does not want to talk to him. She tries to get up, yelps at the slightest pressure on her sore leg, and sits back down.

"Go find him, Sokka!" she stresses and grits her teeth. "Who knows how many people in here would try and get him for money!"

"He went—" the firebender continues, and this time Katara listens.

"_Where?_" she snaps. It is a substitute for a large sob at the ripping pain she receives when she moves. Zuko opens his mouth, closes it, and opens it again.

"…The _Avatar_ went to see his bison," he says bitterly. Then he crosses his arms and bows his head. Whatever he mumbles neither Katara nor Sokka can hear. But it can't possibly be pleasant.

"Oh," Katara says. Distantly, she remembers to try and be nice. It's hard but not impossible. "Sorry."

Zuko shrugs a shoulder. It must mean she's forgiven.

"How?" Sokka demands, narrows his eyes. Zuko sighs.

"There's a tunnel," he says, almost shyly. Weird. "It goes underground from here to the flower shop."

Katara relaxes after the small moment of amusement at hearing him say 'flower.' She rubs her temple and reminds herself to be more watchful. Reprimands herself for breaking her mask and yelling, even for a second. Then she exhales and takes hold of Sokka's hand. If he is curious why, he doesn't mention it.

* * *

They eat an hour later. Dinner is lovely: a spread of butter biscuits, pan-seared chicken pig, curry rice, a tiny bowl of greens, and lukewarm papaya juice.

Katara hates papaya juice. But she won't complain.

* * *

When it is dark, they all watch as Iroh tells the tavern a story of adventure and danger and spirits and a beautiful damsel in distress. He is in the center of the room, and everyone is sitting in a circle around him, awed. They tilt their heads back and smile, or frown, or grimace whenever the part calls for it. The whistle of wind and the pounding of sand against the building only add to the atmosphere.

Katara has to settle for leaning against the wall, straining to hear Iroh's voice. At least Aang has stayed with her, once he came back of course. Before this he'd apologized many times for making her cry (obviously Sokka told the story wrong). She told him there was nothing to forgive and then they both smiled and Momo attacked Zuko.

The latter has bite marks on his arms now.

Iroh is presently at the climax of his story, when the dragon changes shape and becomes the evil spirit of the woman that the heroes had been hunting all along, and his voice becomes louder as he describes the combat. One of the heroes dies. Lyon, his name was. Katara liked him.

Figures.

After a while the waterbender drifts in and out of consciousness. She recalls applause, but not the end of Iroh's tale. Lanterns being blown out. Babies being hushed. And finally, she feels Sokka slide her down onto her back and toss a blanket over her. He is careful of her leg. She is grateful, but too tired to thank him. Toph offers a gruff goodnight and stomps into her tent.

Everything is black and noiseless, and the sounds of the storm outside lull Katara to sleep.

* * *

_A/N: ...Reviews make my day! _


	3. Resolve

_And here, my dear friends, is the extremely short and very un-betaed last chapter of our little journey. I thank you for all your loverly comments-they're, uh, probably what got me through this far. _

_I might post a one-shot with relevance to this. Or a drabble. Is there a difference? *shrugs* But anyway, yes. _

_And a quick :_

_Alessa, I love you, but since ff won't let me PM lately, I will say it here. **Catessa FTW**. That is all. _

_Once again, thank you all for your reviews and/or gentle nudges in the right direction. Y'all make me gigglesnort happily in public-and so you should be very ashamed of yourselves. Caitlin is not attractive when she gigglesnorts._

_Disclaimer? Yes._

_(Oh and by the way. Never, ever, ever, never, for **never, **watch Masters of Horror. Ever. Peace out.)_

_Enjoy the show!_

* * *

_"_Sticks and Stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me."

-_From the book of Derogatory, Untrue, Overused Nursery Rhymes_

* * *

...

The next morning brings consciousness that occurs _late_. Later than normal. Katara is flustered, but only slightly so, since she is still sleepy.

"Finally," someone mumbles. Judging by the voice Katara knows it is Sokka. She sits up, not mindful of her gash until the last second, and props herself up with one hand. "I was starting to think you were dead."

She rolls her eyes. Then she yawns and looks patiently up at her brother, who is standing against the wall.

"Oh, and guess what?" he says. "The sandstorm is over."

Katara feels a smile creep onto her face as she looks around. There's no Zuko.

_No Zuko and no storm. _

She's _free._

* * *

Toph actually helps her walk outside later; she _watches _as Katara heals herself correctly and stands on jelly legs. She watches even though blindness says she can't, and the waterbender is not really surprised.

Aang helps Sokka clean up their area. Katara sees how much stuff they had lying around, and wonders how Sokka managed it. (She knows he's a slob, all right, but he has never achieved such a mess in two days before.) At least Aang doesn't complain. He rarely complains. He's peaceful, and it takes something like much lack of sleep or food to drive him up a wall.

Katara likes this. It's so easy to be around him. If Aang were born Fire Nation she isn't really sure if she would've put up with him this long.

"…I think that went well." The announcement comes from Sokka, who's stretching his arms and also murmurs "_and I only got drunk once!_" before he pries Momo off of his person and walks with Aang to retrieve Appa. Then he reluctantly hands Katara a folded parchment and says badword, badword to the ground.

There are no firebenders in sight.

None.

They just… _left, _probably the moment the sandstorm broke, without a goodbye and amazingly without any kidnappings. From the looks of it, Katara was the last to awaken.

The burly men are gone, the willowy women with their babies are gone. The skinny gossipy men and the tsungi horn player and the drunks who hung around the bar are gone, and only the bartender remains. The tables are back in their place and Katara feels a keen atmosphere of inelegance.

But she smiles. Because that's what Katara does.

And she says, "To Ba Sing Se?"

Aang returns her smile, arms full of clutter as he carries it to Appa's saddle. He agrees with a voice that wakes her up.

"To Ba Sing Se."

* * *

In the future, Katara muses.

She muses that she should have woken earlier.

And maybe she should've.

She muses that even though Zuko is her enemy and he's a big jerk and he will never be anything but trouble, he _wasn't that bad to be around. _

He did leave her a note, after all. One that said _thank you. _And _thank you. _Perhaps, in the Fire Nation, they must repeat everything so they do not forget it. After all, Fire Lord Sozin may have said 'This jacket is so unpleasant' rather than 'Attack the Earth Kingdom peasants.'—Katara thinks this is funny but no one else might. So she never says it out loud.

Two kanji and two exact formalities, though Katara doesn't know what Zuko is thanking her for. For letting him stay, rather than kicking him out to the storm? That was a close decision. For talking to him, or laughing at his dumb joke?

It was hard.

For being _nice? _Well, Zuko's a little presumptuous if he thinks Katara is anything _but _nice. It's a nature of hers. A nature of her mother's to the end, and now it is her job to be so.

It's only a week later in Ba Sing Se that she notices one of the romance scrolls is gone. She laughs so hard she's sure people can hear it miles away, for it's certainly making Toph grit her teeth, and realizes what the second thank-you was for.

Zuko isn't illiterate after all.

And when she is thrown in a cave with _him _(she—accidentally—mentioned the war to a bustling marketplace, but at least they discovered Azula and her cronies before the Fire Nation learned about the eclipse), she is sore to call Zuko names like _coward _and _monster _and _weak, _but she is nice to prove his first thank-you wrong.

Because now, all she can remember about Wan Shi Tong's library is the sand. Pain shooting through her spine. The melting cups and Toph's earth tent. The look on Zuko's face when he first saw Aang.

She says softly, "You should come with me, when we get out of here."

He is on his knees and brings his head up to stare at her with obvious shock.

"What?" he asks, but she Katara has too much pride to repeat herself. She sits against the wall and plays with her necklace.

"You heard me."

She knows he's going to refuse, so she'll just shrug and ignore it, but he clears his throat and she looks at him and his unkempt hair. She'll hear later that he is a tea server now. That he caught a fight with a disturbed boy and he got the lesser of two evils, being thrown down here.

If (when) he attacks her Katara will disprove that theory.

He only says, "Why?" So Katara rolls her eyes and forces down a blush that's appeared for no good reason.

"Aang needs a firebending teacher. We could just ask your _uncle. _He might be a little more enthusiastic about—"

"No!" he interjects. Katara glares at him; she's not used to being interrupted, and if Zuko aspires to it he might be the first to go one time too many. "No. I—I'll think… about it."

His surprised face is replaced by a rapidly paling one when she offers him a condescending smile.

She isn't sure at all what she has brought on them both; it was impulsiveness and hope that made her ask, but as long as he proves to be the slightest bit trustworthy, she'll find docile ways to torture him.

It's what Katara does, after all.

(And one of these days, she has to give him a note. One that says _you're welcome, you're welcome._)

"…I can heal that, you know."

* * *

..._The End. _

_Please exit through the top of the screen, and collect any personal belongings you may have brought into the plot bunny. Review, or this story shall haunt your thoughts through all your days! Mwahahahhaahaha!_

_I should stop now. _

_(Feel free to cart me off to the asylum. :D)_

_With much totally un-creepy love,_

_~Z_


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